


Your Boyfriend's a Trash Captain

by supervillainesses



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Animated Series, Gotham City Sirens (Comics)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 12:18:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10593861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supervillainesses/pseuds/supervillainesses
Summary: Joker’s back in Arkham. Selina’s sick of hearing shitty pop music. Harley and Ivy get drunk off their asses.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This one is reeeaaaalllllyyy old and lacks a lot of finesse, but it's still a laugh

It was the fifteenth time Harley had played “Chasing Cars” over the tinny sound system this week, and it was still only Monday. Ivy was considering braiding the clown’s pigtails to the ceiling beams.

“ _IF I LAY HEEEEEERE—!!_ ”

Pam tried smashing a pillow over her own head. Partially looking for relief, partially looking for the end. Now she was considering murder.

A series of loud, descending thuds came from down the stairs, followed blessedly by a crash, and silence. Pam breathed in the quiet for a solid three seconds before the unholy screeching clawed up through the walls. Sometimes the children could shout themselves placid, and Ivy could sleep until evening to wake for some night gardening.

_Thump — thump — thump — CRASH._

“YOUR PSYCHO GIRLFRIEND BIT ME! _"_ Selina roared, rolling up her sleeve to expose a large red welt above her elbow. Ivy noticed the same song was playing, but from a closer place in the building.

"She isn’t my girlfriend,” groaned Pam, descending with the grace of a petal on the breeze. Her vine-y hammock moved to snatch her up, but she brushed it aside with a touch of her hand. Selina was regarding her with a furrowed brow and curled upper lip. “What?”

“You’re so graceful that it’s revolting. Ugh. It’s like I’m watching a kid perfectly perform some kind of Sugarplum Fairy dance.”

“You’re…mocking me, aren’t you?”

At this, Selina laughed idiotically loud. Between being bitten and fighting most of the previous night (verbally) with the Big Bad Bat, she was understandably taxed. Harley and Ivy had done a pretty good job of pretending the older woman’s eyes weren’t red and glassy this morning over brunch.

“Sure. Absolutely. You can sleep in my room. No, I insist.” Pam grumbled as Selina folded herself onto the floor in a most catlike display.

Against her will, or so she told herself, her vines slid underneath the catty intruder, making a modest but undoubtedly comfortable mat. With a flick of her fingers, the vine bed lifted Selina and dropped her onto the floor.

“I’ll go talk to Harley,” said Pam at the door.

“I’ll go find my earplugs.”

Pam’s face turned crimson as her hair. “ _Excuse me?_ ”

Selina blinked. “I meant for the music. God, I dunno if you’re perverted or a prude.”

“On second thought,” with a twirl of her hand, Selina was wrapped in vegetation from neck-to-foot.

“Oh,” Selina said slowly. “Kinky. Well, that answers that question.”

With a flex of a choice finger, the vines overtook Selina’s mouth, and she was left to deal with the resident clown.

* * *

 

The scene was almost resplendently pathetic.

Harley was curled on the floor, clutching an old boombox in one arm, both Bud and Lou in the other. A Joker plush was perched on her chest. She was sobbing uncontrollably, barely getting out the words, but trying her damned hardest. Pam shut it off, but Harley didn’t move to yell at her.

“Let me guess: He’s back at Ark–”

“–HE’S BACK IN ARKHAM.” Harley wailed, rolling over, scaring the hyenas off into the dark distance of the abandoned veterinary hospital. “And Ozzy says–”

“Ozzy?” Pam arched a brow.

“Ozzy! You know Ozzy! Big, fat, stinky, kinda a sweetheart? He eats all them damn fish!”

“You mean Penguin.”

“Rude, Pam. He’s a person, too. Anyway, Ozzy says he’s got a scuzzy new bimbo–”

“–Wait, how did _Penguin_ get a bimbo?”

“That’s so mean, P–NOT HIM _, JOKER_. Ozzy says he’s got a new girl on his tail. A perky little brunette named _Janet Monteque,_ ” Harley batted her lashes in faux flirtation, then ripped the stuffed Joker in two with her teeth.

Pam smirked just a bit. Harley collected villain merchandise like the average person collected Polaroids of friends. They were sold mainly so the good guy action figures could have something to fight against, but had evolved in a revolting way. She remembered the first time she gagged at the sight of a cutesyfied figurine of herself in a grocery store. And the first time Selina texted her a thousand revenge emojis for Pam sending her a pic of a cutesyfied Catwoman figurine. And the first time she got kicked out of a store for complaining about a sexed up Harley Quinn figurine.

Harley ended up buying that once herself. From there, her collection expanded. Sometimes, her collections of Jokers and Ivys would be neck-and-neck. When that happened, Bud and Lou inexplicably ended up chewing the the little green and purple devils up, or a new Poison Ivy would mysteriously end up in Harley’s possession. Harley had yet to notice.

Petty? Of course. And it irked Pam how petty Harley made her. She made her stupid and childish and reckless and, God help her, she seldom found herself hating it.

“Janet? Pam chuckled, lying face-up beside Harley on the floor. "She doesn’t even have a villain name?”

“Oh yeah she does. She’s calling herself Jumping Juliet. She has stupid good jumping skills and she wears a dumb pink outfit with a race car helmet on her head. And she thinks her name is ‘punny’.”

A beat. “But Juliet was a Capulet.”

“THAT’S WHAT I’M SAYIN’.”

“Feh. But it suits him, that level of tacky,” said Pam, in an undertone not under enough.

“Yup, that’s me all right.” Harley deflated again, flopping backward onto the floor. Pam preferred her angry; it was Harley’s first stage of healing. “Harley Quinn, the Tacky Welcome Mat.”

“You aren’t tacky,” Pam mumbled. “And I thought you were _over_ that cretin. Clearly he doesn’t like you enough to keep you around if he’s picking up the first kid who’ll go his way.”

Harley rolled onto her stomach and made a pathetic muffled sound into the floor.

“Be logical, Harl. Look at it like this, Selina and I hate nearly everyone on the damn planet, but we still like to have you around. Joker can’t even be bothered to look at you some days if you haven’t got money to give him. She and I are your most important friends, but you’re just moping over some–” she wanted a strong phrase, something crass, like Selina would say. “–Trash Captain.”

Harley laughed into the floor. Pam smiled as she heard her reiterate “ _Trash Captain?_ ” to the wood.

Pam rolled over on top of Harley, pinning her down and tickling her sides. The pigtailed girl rolled over, her face red and splotchy from crying, but lit up with joyous laughter.

“C'mon,” Pam went for Harley’s weak spot, the armpits, and tickled there with fervor. “Let’s get drunk off our asses. What do you say?”

The only thing Harley could get out was a croak of “OMG tickle,” but the tone was nothing but consent.

* * *

 

An hour later, they were back on the floor, staring up at the string lights Harley had looped around on the exposed ceiling beams with drunken acrobatics that Pam had been just tipsy enough to laugh at at that point. Ivy was at least partially immune to alcohol, but she could still get pretty giggly.

“Okay, truth or dare?” Pam asked, drinking directly from the neck of their second bottle of wine.

“Mmmm…”

“Harley, you have to pick.”

“But…mmmmmm…okey. Uhhh dare!”

Pam was not about to let Harley do another dare. The clown had nearly broken her neck doing to lights one. Maybe Harley was drunk enough to not notice Pam changing it to truth.

“Who’s the most disgusting guy you’ve ever kissed?”

“Oh, that’s easy,” yeah, she was pretty fucking drunk. “Croc!”

Pam snorted wine out of her nose. “Okay, but how the fuck?”

“Nahahaha, I’m just kidding. I’d have to say…”

_Please say Joker. Please say Joker. Please say Joker._

“Jerry, this kid from -hic- high school. The boy did not believe in showering, but damn his car was fly. Your turn, Red.”

“Um, no. I think we’re both done. Time to sleep.”

“Noooooo,” Harley dragged out the sound. “Just one more?”

“Fine,” Pam rolled her eyes. “Truth.”

“What is the _one thing_ you have _always_ wanted to say to my face but could never do it?”

“That your butt looks extra cute when you walk, but awful cute besides.”

Pam slapped her hand over her mouth so hard that she saw stars. Why that? Why the actual exact words she said to herself when she watched Harley leave a room? Why the actual fuck?“

Harley rolled over on the floor, ending up right beside Pam as she tried to look over her shoulder at her own butt. She giggled and slapped it as Pam stared, wide-eyed, mortified at the ceiling.

"OMF I do, though?” Harley giggled, her breath right on Pam’s ear. “Well, it’s okay, Red. I think you have a cute butt, too. We’re lucky, us two. Cute butts are had to have. Selina, wow, not so much. But her boobs are closer together, so I guess you can’t win at everything.”

At this, Pam laughed, realizing distantly that the alcohol was starting to warm in her veins.

“You also have cute hair, too.” Pam said, reaching her arm around to touch it, bringing Harley closer. “So soft. Mine’s so rough.”

“But I like it,” Harley smiled, resting her head on Pam’s chest, looking up at her. “It’s so long and thick.”

“You also have a cute mouth.”

“Well, then,” Harley giggled. “I guess I dare you to kiss it.”

* * *

 

Selina was unsure of exactly how long she had been tied up, but the sun was down now, and the music had stopped. Surely, Ivy was on her way up to set her free.

Just as she thought that, she heard Harley shout “Yahtzee!” at the top of  her lungs, and she was left once again longing for her earplugs.


End file.
